What Might Have Been
by tmtcltb
Summary: Sasha Cooper reflects on various events in her relationship with Tom Chandler – past, present, and future. Warning for discussion of infant loss.
1. Chapter 1

_Ch. 1 - Pacific Ocean, June 2015_

 _x_

"Do you ever wonder how things might have been different?"

Tom's voice behind her was quiet, almost too soft to hear over the crashing of the waves against the hull and the purring of the engine. Sasha straightened, back stiff, cursing him for tracking her down now, when she was so vulnerable. Unbidden, her mind returned to a time when she and Tom played like children, spending long days working side-by-side and long nights tangled up in each other's bodies, not a care in the world.

Until it all came crashing down.

Surprisingly, it hadn't been Tom's appearance at Peng's palace that stirred up the old memories. There was no need to think about the past. As soon their eyes locked, Sasha knew that the fire still burned between them. Buried under life and time and other relationships, perhaps, but the core that drew them together so many years ago remained. Seeing him again, working with him again, fighting with him to rescue Slattery and the crew, it all felt so natural. She had been content to remain in the present, to accept it for what it was, not once tempted down the rabbit hole.

Instead, the trigger had been a man she met only days before. It had been the sight of Lieutenant Danny Green taking Kaito in his arms that caused the flood-gates to open, releasing a maestrom of sadness and anguish and pain. Sasha knew, without having to ask, that Danny was imagining - was longing for - the son he had never met. Because she recognized each emotion that flitted across the man's face as he held the newborn.

 _Sadness, because this wasn't his son._

 _Astonishment, because the baby survived._

 _Happiness, because a new life had come into this world._

 _Determination, that this child would not suffer like his parents._

Sasha knew exactly what Danny was feeling, because they were the same emotions that Sasha felt every time she held a child in her arms. All except the last one.

 _Hope._

Danny had hope that someday he would meet his son. Sasha had none.

"This is hardly the time, Tom," she replied, hoping that he wouldn't notice how shaky the words were. But he did, of course, coming to stand next to her by the rail.

"You didn't have any more children," he replied, apparently determined to have the conversation she would have preferred to avoid. Sasha snorted. More than seventeen years and they were picking up right where they left off. Still, this time _was_ different. It was different because he was different, because she was different. It was different because of the loses they both suffered over this past year. Spouses, colleagues, friends, family.

And yet, despite everything, her heart still ached for the loss of a single life, one that never even began.

"Nicholas and I planned to start a family once we returned from our honeymoon. The first day back I got sent here and you know the rest." She paused. "Ashley and Sam are beautiful children."

"Thank you." Tom didn't ask how she knew the names of his children or what they looked like. He understood her well enough to know that she would have kept track of him from afar, not the type to cut ties completely. "They are the most important people in my life and I would not give them up for anything, but I still wonder what it would be like if..."

Seventeen years. That was how long it had been since they lost their son.

 _And it still hurt._

Sasha turned to meet Tom's gaze, seeing her own pain reflected in his. Without thinking she reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning her gaze to the waves.

"I wonder too."


	2. Chapter 2

_St. Louis, Jeffrey Michener High School, 2045_

 _x_

"Sasha!" Sasha turned to see Kara flagging her down, two champagne flutes in her hand, appearing flustered.

"You all right?" She asked the normally unflappable woman. Kara took a sip of her drink, passing the other one to Sasha.

"PTA Mom almost caught me," Kara explained, gesturing towards the woman who even now was now descending on an unsuspecting group of victims. "She's looking for volunteers to run events for the summer carnival. As if I have time for that."

Sasha chuckled, trying the sparkling drink, pleasantly surprised to discover that it actually tasted like champagne. One unfortunate fact about the pandemic was that few vineyards survived, most having been torn up and replaced by other crops, leaving beer as the most commonly available adult beverage. And while Sasha wouldn't say no to a decent brew, she much preferred a glass of an excellent vintage. "She already got me. I volunteered my husband to teach a class on hand-to-hand combat."

Kara nibbled on her lower lip. " _Damn_. Why didn't I think of that? I wonder if I can get Danny to…"

"Get Danny to what?" Danny interrupted, one hand sliding around his wife's waist.

"To save your wife from PTA Mom," Sasha explained, not caring one bit that she was rating on her friend.

Despite being a highly decorated combat soldier, Danny actually shuddered. "Hell, no. That woman gives me the creeps. She's so _perky_ all the time. And she's all into that hippie shit. I think I saw her talking to a tree once."

"Language," Kara muttered, probably more out of habit than anything else.

"We're at a high school graduation, Kara. I think they've heard the word _shit_ before," Danny replied, although he didn't sound any more annoyed than his wife. Sasha hid a smile behind her glass. Apparently even the Greens fell into a few ruts after being married for more than twenty years.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tom asked, his appearance ending the non-disagreement immediately, as both Danny and Kara's posture improved until they were almost standing at attention, Danny's hand dropping from Kara's waist.

Apparently old habits die hard.

"Not at all, we were just discussing who would volunteer to help with the summer carnival," Kara replied, flashing an amused glance at Sasha. Internally groaning, Sasha fought to keep her face impassive.

"Oh yes, I was surprised to see my name on the list. I just finished talking to Leslie about it, actually," Tom noted, the look he shot Sasha telling her _exactly_ what he thought about being volunteered _and_ letting her know that there would be retribution. Sasha gave him her best seductive smile in return.

"Who is Leslie?" Tex asked, joining the group with Andrea.

"PTA Mom," Kara supplied.

Tex made the symbol of the cross. "May God have mercy on our souls."

"You are all babies," Andrea said smartly. "Leslie is simply dedicated to providing a well-rounded experience to the students of this school. We should all be thanking her for her efforts."

"Easy for you to say," Danny muttered. "This is the last time you have to deal with her. We still have _years_ to go."

"Yes, well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to have your own football team," Andrea retorted.

Sasha thought the use of the word "decided" was kind of Andrea since, as far as Sasha could tell, there was very little "planning" involved in the Greens' family planning. She took another sip of her champagne. It really wasn't bad. She would have to find out where it came from and buy a case.

"Now, Red, don't be too hard on the boy," Tex interjected, not seeming to realize the irony of calling an almost fifty year old man a boy. "After all, without Danny and Kara's dedication to the cause, the school would be half empty."

From the narrowing of Kara's eyes, she was less amused by Tex's quip than the remainder of the group, but before she could respond her attention was caught by a new arrival. "It's Frankie!"

"I told you that he'd make it," Danny replied, earning an exasperated look from his wife. Frankie, like his father, had a tendency to procrastinate until the last minute, driving Kara to distraction.

As the two bustled across the room to great their eldest, who had spent the last six months in Beijing as part of a college exchange program, Sasha turned to Tom. "Shall we?"

It took only a moment to locate their seats. Despite being the largest graduating class in years, only thirty-nine students would be crossing the stage. Sasha smiled as she ran her fingers across one particular name on the program.

 _Jacob Jedidiah Chandler_

It was a compromise, of course, Sasha not being a fan of Jedidiah but understanding Tom's need to honor his father and Tom not wanting to cause any more stress during the difficult pregnancy. Quickly skimming the remainder of the program, Sasha picked out the other familiar names.

 _Mariah Ellen Burk_

 _Eliana Sarah Granderson_

 _Mark Paul Green_

 _Liam Kenneth Nolan_

Sasha's finger slowed as it passed over the next name on the program: _Commencement Speaker,_ _Kaito Michael Slattery._ Unbidden, Sasha's mind jumped back twenty years to the unlikely chain of events that threw her into Tom's path, that allowed them to be sitting here – together – waiting for their son to graduate from high school.

 _Their son_.

 _Their desperately wanted, loved, and fought for child._

 _The one she never imagined having, and now could not imagine life without._

Impatiently, Sasha moved to brush away a tear, only to have Tom preempt her with a tissue. Taking the small package he handed her, Sasha asked, "How did you know?"

"Danny," Tom said with a shrug. "He said that no matter how often they do this and how much she complains about how they are all the same, Kara cries each and every time."


	3. Chapter 3

_Ch. 3 – Newport, Rhode Island, 1998_

 _x_

"So what does it say?" Twenty-seven year old Tom Chandler demanded, his hair sticking out at all angles from running his hand through it over and over again.

Sasha took a deep breath, hoping that the smile she was giving him came across more coquettish than terrified. "It says that you, Thomas Wilson Chandler, are going to be a daddy in about seven months."

With a whoop, Tom lifted Sasha, swinging her around the small loft. "I knew it! I knew you were pregnant!"

Sasha laughed, wrapping her arms around Tom's broad shoulders, all of her reservations disappearing in light of his obvious enthusiasm. "Tell me how you really feel."

Tom tumbled both of them onto the bed that took up the vast majority of the space in Sasha's small temporary abode, leaning over to give her a thorough kiss before dropping his head to her stomach, laying a soft kiss on the still-flat planes. "A dad. Wow."

"It will be a big change," Sasha cautioned. "I'm due in May - right before end of semester finals. I'll have to talk to the Dean and see if I can finish the program or need to defer for a year. Do you think that will cause a problem for you?"

"Nah, command knows that we're dating," Tom replied, brushing aside the concern. "The bigger issue is where you'll be stationed afterwards. I'm headed back to Norfolk."

"I can put Norfolk and D.C. down as my top two choices," Sasha replied. "We might get lucky."

"Priority goes to married couples," Tom pointed out.

Sasha shrugged, stopping herself from pointing out that giving priority to "married" couples was one reason that the divorce rate in the military was sky-high, as it encouraged people to jump into marriages when the relationship would otherwise quickly have fizzled. It wouldn't be the first time she and Tom argued over the institution. Unlike her parents' disastrous marriage, which mercifully ended when Sasha was ten, Tom's parents were happily married for more than thirty years. It skewed his thinking, as far as Sasha was concerned. "No reason to rush into anything."

Sasha thought she saw a flicker of indecision, an emotion she never expected to see from Tom, cross his face. Then it was gone, immediately replaced by that charming, ne'er-do-well smile she knew so intimately. He pulled something out of his pocket, lifting it level with her face. "So you aren't interested in this?"

Her mouth might actually have fallen open as Sasha took in the diamond ring that Tom was dangling before her.

"Nothing to say? Maybe you need to try it on first?" Tom teased, catching her left hand and sliding the ring onto her fourth finger.

Sasha was rarely caught off guard, but right now she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Learning that she was pregnant was far less shocking than this. The idea that Tom wanted to marry her – wanted to be a part of her life for the long-haul – both thrilled and terrified her. Marriage was so very … permanent. Lifting her hand, Sasha watched the sun glitter off the stone.

"It's beautiful," she whispered when she finally found her voice again. "But marriage is a big step and…."

"How about we make a deal?" Tom interrupted. "You try the ring out for a bit. See what you think. Then we can talk."

Sasha blinked at his understanding tone, the soft smile playing along his lips, tears threatening as she realized just how much this man understood her. Understood that this was not a decision she could make on the fly – and that her hesitation had nothing to do with their present and everything to do with her past. Her fear of waking up from a twelve-year marriage with no college degree, no work history, and no way to support herself and a child.

 _Just another reason why she was head-over-heels in love with this man._

Without any warning, Sasha swung a leg across Tom, giving him a devilish grin as she began working on the buttons of his jeans. "Before making a final decision, I think I need to personally inspect the merchandise offered."

Tom gave a soft snort that quickly turned into a groan as Sasha slid her hand into his pants. "Happy to oblige."


	4. Chapter 4

_Ch. 4 – St. Louis, December 15, 2015_

 _x_

"Rise and shine."

Sasha felt the bed sag slightly before the quilt she was curled up in disappeared, Tom's face appearing momentarily before she buried her head under the pillow, pretending that she didn't smell the coffee he was holding, pretending that she didn't know it was already after eight o'clock and there was no way they were going to make it out of the house on time, pretending that it wasn't December 15th.

 _December 15th._

 _The day of their son's birth._

For 364 days out of the year (well, perhaps 363, his due date of May 4th was usually a difficult day as well), Sasha could block out the memories.

 _The torture of sitting in that examination room, waiting for the doctor to tell her what she already knew._

 _The agony of listening as the doctor confirmed, tears in her eyes, that the baby didn't have a heartbeat, fighting the urge to scream at the woman to do something, knowing that there was nothing that could be done._

 _The physical pain of delivering her son, which dulled in comparison to the emotional pain of knowing that her child was dead, and no amount of wishing or hoping or denying was going to change that._

 _The anguish of holding her son, the child she gave birth to only hours earlier, his body so small that it was drowning in the tiny preemie outfit that the nurse dressed him in so tenderly._

Slapping away the hand that was now rubbing up and down her back, Sasha tried to reason with herself. It wasn't as though today meant anything, really. The baby had died days or even weeks earlier, based on his measurements. Really, today was just the day of his delivery. No different than any other day of the year.

 _Except that it was._

"I called us in sick," Tom said casually.

That got her attention and Sasha exploded out of the bundle of blankets. "You did what?"

"Sasha, there's nothing wrong with taking the time you need to grieve." A hint of a smile crossed Tom's face. "You told me that once, remember?"

With a scowl, Sasha snatched her coffee off the nightstand, noticing that Tom had also brought her a cinnamon roll with icing, just the way she liked it. "Where are Ashley and Sam?"

"At school. It was Ashley's idea to get you a cinnamon roll," Tom explained.

Touched by the sweet gesture, Sasha reached out to pick the pastry up despite not being even remotely hungry. "You told her?"

Settling himself next to her, Tom leaned against the headboard. "Yes, in one of our family therapy sessions. Kelly thought it was important to get my past – our past – out in the open."

Sasha nibbled at the icing. While her relationship with Ashley wasn't horrible, it was certainly a work-in-progress and Sasha was careful to avoid saying or doing anything that might be interpreted as an attempt to supplant Darien. If asked five minutes earlier, Sasha would have guessed that learning about Tom and Sasha's prior relationship would have been a definite step in the wrong direction. "I would have thought the opposite. Guess that shows how much I know about kids."

Tom's hand dropped to her leg and this time Sasha didn't brush him away. "I can't take credit. In one of our therapy sessions Kelly pointed out that you lost your husband and son, just like Ashley lost Darien and Dad. Then she asked Ashley if she was thought we replaced the people you lost. I guess it gave Ashley a little perspective."

Once again Sasha gave thanks for the wisdom of Kelly Tophet Ward, without whom she would probably _still_ be figuring out how to get Ashley to talk her her at all.

Silence descended as Sasha nibbled at her cinnamon roll, wondering what she was going to do for an entire day without work. At least Tom would be here. Perhaps they could tackle cleaning out the garage.

Tom's quiet words came out of the blue. "I think about him too. What he would be like. He would be eighteen today. _Eighteen_. Graduating from high school this spring. Same age as Ray and Kat. I have trouble picturing it. To me, he's always stayed a baby."

She bit down hard on her cinnamon roll, wondering if it was physically possible to ache more than she did right now. "I know."

"We could always … try again," Tom said hesitantly, and Sasha knew that they were both thinking back to another day, another time, when a similar sentiment had not been well received.

Sasha licked her lips, the sticky icing coating her tongue. "I'm thirty-eight,Tom."

"Really? I wouldn't put you at a day over thirty," Tom replied in the teasing, sultry manner that often – usually – resulted in bedroom activities other than drinking coffee.

"And you – we – already have Sam and Ashley. You never wanted more than two kids," she added a little too sharply.

Tom's hand tightened on her knee. From the corner of her eye Sasha could see the way his jaw tightened, knowing that her comment had hurt him. "Things change, Sasha."

"Tom…" Sasha paused, taking a deep breath. For too many years she hid from her feelings, denying her desire for a family, lying to herself about what she wanted. She would not do so again. "I want to. I do. But…I'm scared. Scared of it happening again. It was bad enough before when I figured that I could spend the entire nine months sitting on my ass and getting daily ultrasounds while Nicholas brought me pizza in bed. But now…now I wouldn't even have that. I don't know if it's worth it."

The hand on her leg moved, sliding around Sasha's shoulders until her head was buried in his chest.

"It's worth it, Sasha. I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

_Ch. 5 – Newport, Rhode Island, December 15, 1998_

 _x_

"I'm telling you, it's a girl," Sasha repeated as they walked into her OB-GYN's office.

"Nope, it's a boy, I'm sure of it," Tom argued, although Sasha strongly suspected that it was all for show. Tom wanted two children – a boy and a girl – and didn't seem overly picky about the order. Tom reached over to pat her still small bump. "That there is Thomas Wilson Chandler, Jr."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Try again because that is _never_ going to happen."

"We can discuss other names if you really want." Tom waited while she signed in. "I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if we have a girl. Just means that we have to keep trying until we get a boy."

"Thomas Chandler, you did _not_ just say that!" Sasha snapped, feeling a rush of actual anger before she noticed the teasing glint in his eye. She glared at him. "You are in so much trouble when we get home."

"I hope so," Tom replied, wiggling her eyebrows at her.

"Stop that." Sasha swatted at him. "We have dinner with your parents tonight, assuming they made it to Newport."

Tom nodded. "I talked to my dad earlier. Traffic wasn't bad. Oh, but be warned, my mother is determined to pin down a date for the wedding."

Sasha narrowed her eyes at her fiancé. "We already picked a date. Next September."

"Apparently September isn't a great month for them so she is hoping that you'll agree to move the date," Tom replied, far too innocently.

"Move it to when?" Sasha asked suspiciously.

"To before the baby is born," Tom admitted, tossing up his hands. "It's not my fault that my parents are a little old-fashioned."

"Don't think that you are fooling me one bit Thomas Chandler," Sasha retorted. "I _know_ that you are egging your mother on because the idea of waiting until after the baby is born to get married is killing you. But I will repeat, once again, that I am not getting married while I am pregnant. And if you push your luck, there might not be a wedding at all."

Tom leaned over until his mouth was just next to Sasha's ear, his hot breath reminding her of all kinds of pleasant activities that they could be doing if they weren't stuck in this waiting room. "Are you _sure_ you want to wait until September? What if I said there would be no more premarital sex? Would that speed the process up any?"

Sasha burst into peals of laughter, her hand settling rather high on Tom's thigh as she leaned towards him, her tongue flickering along his earlobe before she whispered, "I'd like to see you try."

Their banter was interrupted by the technician calling Sasha's name, leading them to a small room where the ultrasound machine was set up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Modzeleski. You're here for your anatomy scan?" The woman asked, checking things off on her clipboard.

"Yes," Sasha confirmed.

"And you are twenty weeks?" She confirmed.

"Yes."

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby if we can determine it today?"

"Absolutely." There was not an ounce of doubt in Tom's voice.

Sasha laughed. "Yes. I don't want to spend the next four months fighting about it."

She was still laughing when the nurse placed the wand on her stomach and a picture appeared on the screen. For the briefest of seconds, Sasha's heart stopped, enraptured by the view of a tiny baby on the screen. _She was actually seeing her baby._ Sasha stretched out her hand blindly, reaching for Tom, intertwining their hands as they both stared at the tiny figure.

 _At their baby._

Completely focused on the baby, it took Sasha a moment to realize that the nurse was no longer talking.

"So what do you think? Boy or girl?" Tom asked, his voice a combination of amusement and awe. "Because I think I see three legs."

"A boy, it's a boy," the nurse replied quietly, but her voice was flat, dull, completely void of emotion.

Tearing her gaze away from the screen, Sasha saw the woman frowning as she made notes on her clipboard. Without a word, she began taking measurements, the picture on the screen changing as she sought a different angle of the baby – but the measurements didn't make sense. When the woman checked the length of the baby's body, the computer automatically filled in eighteen weeks one day instead of twenty weeks two days. When she checked he baby's head, the computer said eighteen weeks four days.

The room suddenly felt very cold.

 _And quiet. Far too quiet._

Tom didn't seem to notice as he squeezed Sasha's hand. "I told you it was a boy."

"Shouldn't we be able to hear the heartbeat?" Sasha asked, praying that her sudden suspicions were wrong, that she simply didn't understand how these things worked, that the nurse was merely focusing on her work and would laugh at Sasha for jumping to such a horrible conclusion.

 _But none of that happened._

Instead, the woman merely shook her head. "I'm sorry. So very, very sorry."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N - thank you to everyone who has reviewed! And thank you to Guest - I'm glad that you are liking the snapshot approach to this story. I hope you all enjoy the next chapter!_

 _x_

 _Ch. 6 – St. Louis, July 2016_

 _x_

"Do you want another cup of coffee?" Kara asked over her shoulder as she struggled to retrieve her radio from the toddler catapulting around the room, managing to catch the corner of the counter and dump a cup of flour onto the floor in the process.

"I can get it," Sasha replied, standing to cross the kitchen, while Kara bellowed down the hallway for her husband. Sasha watched in amusement as Kara stood in the doorway, tapping her watch until her husband appeared, wiping greasy hands on a cloth.

"You called?" Danny asked.

"Yes. Take your son before I decide that six months at sea sounds like a good idea and re-up." Kara pointed at the mess on the floor.

Danny leaned in to kiss his wife before picking up the fourteen month old. "Just leave it, I'll mop the floor later."

As Danny disappeared down the hallway with Frankie, Kara flopped into a chair. "Well, now that we can actually talk, you were telling me about the new job."

Three months ago, Sasha had made the monumental decision to move from the Navy to the State Department – her ability to speak multiple languages putting her in high demand. "I miss having you around, that's for sure. The lack of organization is almost comical. I spent three hours yesterday searching for a file because nobody has set up a file room yet and everything is just thrown into an office willy-nilly. And forget about the computers. Not only do they barely operate, but nothing has been input for years. It's practically worthless."

Kara chuckled. "Maybe I should ask my boss for a raise."

"Don't bother. I already told him to give you one," Sasha replied, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

If there was one thing that Kara Foster Green was good at, it was recruiting smart, talented people and motivating them to do what she needed done, even when the task seemed overwhelming. Which explained how she managed to get the Navy's computer database up and running in the time it took the State Department to find someone to start the process. Sasha knew the department had suffered significant obstacles under Alex Rivera's control – obstacles which he no doubt set up intentionally – but that excuse only got them so far, and Sasha's patience with their ineptitude ran out her second week on the job.

"So, there's something I wanted to tell you," Kara said, running her thumb around the edge of her coffee cup. A cup, Sasha noticed, which appeared to contain tea.

"You're pregnant," Sasha replied.

Shock, followed by resignation, crossed Kara's face. "Is it that obvious?"

"If it wasn't before, that scene with your husband pretty much clenched it," Sasha replied. "When are you due?"

"February," Kara admitted. She stretched a hand across the table to touch Sasha's arm. "I'm sorry. I know the timing sucks with you just having a miscarriage."

Sasha gazed at her coffee weighing her words carefully. Over the past year, she and Kara had grown close, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt that relationship. "Please don't be sorry. You and Danny are wonderful parents to Frankie, and you'll be wonderful parents to this new baby. I'm happy for you."

Kara took a moment to respond, as though she were considering Sasha's words. "Are you sure you're okay? I understand if you need a ... break from seeing me."

Genuinely surprised by Kara's thoughtfulness, Sasha set her coffee down. "That's not what I want, Kara. I want a baby. That doesn't mean I want yours. In fact, after today's demonstration, as well as some of the stories I've heard from Alisha and Carlton, I am absolutely positive that I do not want a mini-Green running around."

Kara shook her head as she took in the pile of flour, an indulgent smile creeping across her face, although her eyes remained cautious. "I was hoping that we could be pregnant together. Support each other through everything."

For the first time, Sasha appreciated how very lonely Kara's first pregnancy must have been, stuck on a ship full of (mostly male) sailors and then in St. Louis with only her mother for company for months after the Nathan James shipped out. Although it wasn't in her nature to share, Sasha found the words slipping out.

"We're trying again," she confessed. "I was only eight weeks along so Doctor Silver said there was no reason to wait. And, honestly, it hasn't been as hard this time. I lost the baby so early that I never had time to get used to the idea."

Concern filled Kara's eyes. "You know if there is ever anything you need, you just have to ask."

"A babysitter might be nice," Sasha muttered.

Kara laughed at that. "They are always underfoot, aren't they? Danny calls Frankie the cock blocker."

"You seem to have found a way around that problem," Sasha noted.

"Curious George," Kara replied, completely serious. "He's always in trouble and there are never any consequences, but it gives you a solid eighteen minutes of uninterrupted time."

At that moment a shout of _"Frankie, NO!"_ reverberated through the kitchen. Sasha looked at Kara, who just shrugged.

"Curious George." Sasha sipped her coffee. "I'll remember that if I ever need a reprieve from a hyperactive toddler."


	7. Chapter 7

_Ch. 7 – St. Louis – May 4, 2023_

 _x_

"That's it! You're doing it, Jake!" Sam shouted.

Sasha set down the potato peeler, walking to the window to check how the bike riding lesson was going. After last month's disastrous experience – where Tom made a unilateral decision to remove the training wheels from Jake's bike, resulting in a trip to the emergency room for a possible concussion after Jake went flying down the sidewalk and down a set of stone steps – the six-year old had refused to so much as look at a bicycle until yesterday, when Sam offered to help him learn to ride a two-wheeler.

"I'm doing it Sam! I'm doing it!" Jake shouted, as managed to stay upright despite the weaving of the bike from side-to-side.

Sasha found herself smiling as she watched the two boys, so devoted to each other despite the thirteen years of age that separated them.

Watching Sam bend over the bicycle, helping Jake gain speed in the bumpy field (more dirt than grass this time of spring), for the briefest of seconds, Sasha imagined someone else in Sam's place, pushing Jake along.

 _A boy with her chestnut hair._

 _A boy with Tom's flashing smile._

 _A boy who would have been twenty-five by now, had he waited for his due date to arrive._

She could see it in her mind. The two boys – _her boys_ – playing together, laughing together, helping each other through life. And yet….

 _Then there would be no Sam._

 _There would be no Ashley._

 _There would probably be no Jake, given that Sasha would never have intentionally planned an eighteen year age difference._

How could she yearn for a life that never could be, when it would erase the life she now had? A life that she loved, with three children who she adored. A family that she would – and had – defended with her blood.

And yet, no matter how content – even happy – she was with her life, no matter how much she understood – rationally – that one event in her past would have changed everything, Sasha still couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if there were four children sitting around the table for Sunday dinner, rather than three.

"I saw that Sam talked Jake into trying again," Tom commented, strolling into the kitchen, dropping the most recent edition of the St. Louis Tribune on the table. When Val originally broached the idea of circulating a paper version of the newsprint to supplement the online news, which was only accessible to a small portion of the population due to the power outages and spotty internet service that St. Louis still suffered from, Sasha had been dubious. After all, Val wasn't exactly known for her ability to write a non-biased article, but between the two of them Alisha and Val had created an extremely successful mix of hard news and opinion pieces.

Sasha turned away from the window. "I think he might be getting it."

Tom peaked into the pot on the stove. "What are you making?"

"Shepard's pie," Sasha replied, grabbing another potato to peel.

"That seems like an awful lot of food."

"I'm making extra for the Greens," Sasha explained. "The last thing Kara needs to do right now is cook."

"Four kids," Tom chuckled. "God knows how they find time to do anything."

 _Four kids._

The comment struck a little too close to Sasha's earlier thoughts and, despite her best efforts, a tear escaped. Tom, of course, noticed immediately, his arms coming around her, stilling her hands as she made to peel another potato.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He pressed a kiss to her head. "You okay? I know that today is hard."

"I just..." Sasha hesitated, leaning back against Tom. "I love my life but I can't help but wonder...what life might be like if he was here."

"I wonder too."


	8. Chapter 8

_Ch. 8 – Kenbridge Virginia, January 1999_

 _x_

"The ceremony was nice," Sasha murmured as they crossed the parking lot, waiting for Tom to open the door to the hotel where they were staying, the first time she had spoken since they left the cemetery.

Even as the words left her mouth, Sasha could have kicked herself. Did she really just say that the ceremony was _nice?_ Like they were at a barbecue or a clam bake rather than burying their son?

"It was important to my parents," Tom replied quietly.

Sasha knew that he spoke the truth – the loss of their first grandchild had shaken Jed and Irene deeply – but she also knew that there was more to it than that. "And you?"

Tom took a deep breath, a guarded look on his face. "Yes. I wanted him to be … somewhere safe."

Pain slashed through Sasha at the words. _Somewhere safe_. She hadn't been able to do that for their little boy. Her body failing at its most important task – keeping her child alive.

"It's not too far from Norfolk," Tom continued. "If we want to come visit the grave. Put up a stone. Plant some flowers."

A swell of panic engulfed Sasha. Today was bad enough. But coming back? Reliving the last month over and over again?

 _She couldn't do it._

"I was thinking that maybe a fresh start would be better," she said slowly.

"You mean away from Newport?" Tom asked, his attention appearing to be only half on what she was saying as he unlocked the door to their hotel room.

"Actually I was thinking the West Coast. Maybe we could put in for San Diego," Sasha replied, trying to put some enthusiasm into her voice.

Tom frowned. "I'd rather stay a little closer. My parents will be upset being that far away from us, especially once ….."

He trailed off, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was about to say.

 _Especially once we have kids._

"I don't think I can do this again." The words came out in a rush, a wave of relief tumbling through Sasha as she finally said out-loud what she had been thinking for weeks.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking about things and I'm not sure that I really want to be a mother. My job isn't exactly compatible with kids and you know how much I love the Navy." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder, pushing down the despair that threatened to overwhelm her, daring him to argue with her.

Which he did, of course. "You don't mean that. You wanted this baby as much as I did."

Which was true.

She _did_ want this baby as much as he did, falling in love the second she received the confirmation that she was, in fact, pregnant. Like Tom, she had embraced parenthood, sharing the news with friends and family, talking about baby names, going so far as withdrawing her name from consideration for her dream job. Only to learn, days later, that even as she made plans for the future, even as she talked about names and joked about maternity leave and made plans for a baby shower, her baby was already dead.

 _Dead._

Maybe for weeks, based on the measurements – a missed miscarriage, the doctor called it. Her body unable to let go in death of the child it couldn't take care of in life.

There was no way she could do that again.

 _Ever._

And if that meant never being a mother, so be it.

"Accepting something once it's a fait accompli is not the same as wanting it," Sasha snapped, waiting for him to do it. Waiting for him to blow up at her, tell her that this was all her fault, that she was the reason that their baby was gone. Waiting for him to push her away.

But Tom did none of that. "Sasha, now is not the right time to talk about this. We're both grieving for Tommy and today was a hard day. Let's get through the wedding and then we can talk about it."

His oh-so-rational response served only to infuriate her. "And what makes you think that there will be a wedding?"

For a moment the raw pain in his eyes made her want to snatch the words back, but she didn't. Instead she waited, eyes flashing, chin out in challenge. But when Tom answered his voice was flat. "I've always said that wearing the ring was your choice, Sasha."

Sasha gazed at the beautiful ring that Tom gave her only months earlier. Her mind calling up, unprompted, how happy they were that day. The way he slid the ring onto her finger. The way he kissed her stomach. The promise of their future together – Tom, Sasha and their baby – as a family.

 _A dream that simply wasn't meant to be._

And just like that she knew. She knew that she could be happy with just him – just the two of them – focusing on their careers and traveling and maybe someday in the far future getting a dog.

 _But Tom would never be happy with that._

Because even now, he was thinking about more babies, thinking about a family. That was what he saw when he looked at that ring.

 _And she couldn't go through this again._

 _Ever._

Sliding off the ring she had worn for less than three months, heart shattering into a million pieces, Sasha set it down on the nondescript desk of the hotel room.

She was at the door when his voice, low and hoarse, stopped her. "Don't go, Sasha. We can fix this. We can make this work."

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to turn around, to fall into his arms, to believe what he was saying, to believe that everything would be okay. But she couldn't. If she did, if she went through with the wedding, she would be dooming them – dooming him – to half a life. One where he would always yearn for something that could never be. Something that _she_ could never give to him.

Tom would never complain, never pressure her, never leave, Sasha knew that without a doubt. But he would also never be truly happy. And that was what, above all else, she wanted for Tom. For him to be happy.

Sasha turned the knob. "I'm sorry. I can't."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N – apologies for the delay in posting. I have run into some technical problems this weekend. But thank you so much to all who have reviewed! I very much appreciate it!_

 _x_

 _Ch. 9 – St. Louis, September 2016_

 _x_

Tom's hair was sticking up straight, and Sasha knew it was from running his hands through it over and over again as he paced. It reminded her of another day when his hair looked equally mussed, although back then the hair shooting in all directions was brown rather than gray.

 _A day that felt like a lifetime ago._

 _A day when the dominate emotion was excitement, rather than terror._

"What does it say?" he demanded the second that Sasha left the bathroom.

"You know these things expired years ago and aren't reliable anymore, right?" Sasha replied, sidestepping the question. For some reason saying the words out-loud, telling someone else, made it all so much more real.

"So take another one," he answered, his voice tight.

"I've taken three," Sasha replied, tossing the sticks at him. All were positive, of course, as they both knew they would be. Sasha might have insisted on waiting an extra week before testing "just in case" but her period was as reliable as clockwork. There was only one reason that it was ever late.

"Five weeks. That would be put us in …." Tom's voice trailed off as he did the internal calculation, realizing what Sasha already knew.

"May," she finished around the lump in her throat. "If we make it this time."

" _Fuck."_

Sasha was startled by the outburst. This was _not_ the reaction she was expecting. A bit of sadness? Sure. Some trepidation? Definitely. But _surprise_? Nope. After all, they had been trying for eight months and Tom's math skills were excellent. He must have known they were getting close to May. The fact that her new due date would fall uncomfortably close to Tommy's original due date was not ideal, but Sasha was less concerned with a due date than the possibility of another loss.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "This will be a good one for the baby book. How Mommy told Daddy that she was pregnant and Daddy freaked out."

Apparently realizing that his response left something to be desired, Tom rounded the bed, wrapping his arms around Sasha, stoking a hand down her stiff back. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm happy, of course. I just didn't think about the timing. I should have given you the option of taking the month off. I was just so focused on trying again that I didn't think about how this would be for you and…"

Sasha leaned back, holding up a hand to stop him. "I'm not upset Tom."

An eyebrow lifted. "Do I look that gullible, Sasha?"

"Okay, the timing sucks," she admitted. "And I wouldn't have picked it on purpose. But I knew this was a possibility when we were trying. I didn't want to wait. I'm pushing forty and each month that passes, I see it slipping away. I don't want to look back and wonder whether the month we skipped was it. I have enough regrets in life already."

"Don't we all," Tom murmured. Silence fell between them and Sasha slowly relaxed into his chest.

"What was it like?" Sasha asked after several minutes. "When Darien was pregnant? Was it this terrifying?"

"It was hard," Tom acknowledged after a moment's hesitation, one that Sasha knew had less to do with who he was talking to than who he was talking about. Although close to two years had passed, Tom's grief over Darien's loss was still profound. "With Ashley, at the beginning, I was a wreck. But Darien wasn't a worrier. She read the books and followed the doctor's advice and she kept reassuring me that everything was right on track."

"She couldn't really be a worrier, married to you," Sasha observed. She had never doubted that Darien was a strong, capable woman. Being a military spouse was tough, especially when your husband was typically gone six months out of twelve, and from what Sasha heard from Ashley and Sam, as well as Tom and Mike and Christine, Darien had been in her element as a military wife and mother. Still, Sasha suspected that Darien had worried far more about her pregnancy with Ashley than Tom was aware.

 _How could she not after hearing Tom's story?_

No, Darien would have worried and stressed and probably cried herself to sleep more than once. But she also kept those fears to herself, knowing that she had to be the strong one, the rock for Tom to lean on, and Sasha gave silent thanks to the woman for understanding how vulnerable the man they both loved so well was when it came to his family.

Tom chuckled, before his face grew serious. "I was actually pretty calm at the beginning with Sam. Everything was textbook, just like with Ashley, plus it was my first cruise as an XO so I was busy. Then Darien's water broke. She was out grocery shopping, of all things. There was no warning that anything was wrong."

Although Sasha had heard this story many times before, she shifted to rub Tom's arm, encouraging him to continue.

"The whole way home to Norfolk I was convinced that we were going to lose Sam. Then I saw him and he was so big – smaller than Ashley, but so much bigger than Tommy – and so pink, and he was breathing. Somehow that surprised me. I guess one of the doctors noticed how freaked out I was because he pulled me aside to assure me that the survival rate for infants born at thirty weeks was ninety-five percent."

Sasha leaned back, meeting Tom's eyes. "The doctor told Kara something similar with Frankie. Even now the survival rate after thirty weeks is over ninety percent."

Not that the information provided her any comfort. You still had to _make_ it to thirty weeks – with a live baby – for that statistic to matter. Sasha knew that she would never relax until she was actually holding her child.

 _Assuming that ever happened._

Sasha laid her head back on Tom's chest. "Maybe a May due date isn't so bad. Maybe now we'll have some happy memories to balance out the sad ones."

"I know you may not believe it right now, but it's worth it Sasha," Tom's voice was urgent, compelling. "In the end, it's worth every second."


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10 – _Norfolk Virginia, December 2003_

 _x_

"A bunch of us are heading to Shippers for a drink if you want to come with."

Sasha considered the offer for half a second, knowing that it was genuinely an invitation for a drink and not a less-than-subtle attempt to get her in bed. Ted was a good leader, never missing an opportunity to integrate the team but also never pressing Sasha, the lone woman, to join them during off-hours.

"Thanks but I have plans," she replied.

"I forgot that you were stationed here before," Ted replied smoothly, although Sasha could tell that his curiosity was peaked. Sasha rarely – more like never – talked about her past. "Well, if you want to join us later, you know where I'll be."

 _Back at the hotel talking to the kids on the phone, most likely_ , Sasha though, knowing that Ted's downtime was usually occupied with Little League and Boy Scouts and homework. Still, she nodded politely as she waved goodbye to the group and headed to her car.

It took Sasha an hour to find Kenbridge, the map she snagged from the hotel lobby being even more out of date than she anticipated. Still, there was a tiny bit of light remaining when she pulled up to the small cemetery she had been to only once before.

Walking across the dead, dry grass, taking care to avoid the small patches of snow and ice, Sasha had almost reached her designation before realizing that someone was already there.

 _Tom_.

He was kneeling, hand resting on the small stone that marked the spot where their son was buried. And he wasn't alone. Standing next to Tom was a petite, blonde woman who was pregnant.

 _Very pregnant._

Much further along than Sasha ever was, her stomach popping out of the red pea coat she wore. A flash of jealously tore through Sasha, and she was uncertain if it was because this woman was with Tom, or because this woman was having the child that Sasha never would.

Or more likely, a combination of both.

Sasha stopped, hesitating, considering retreating back to her car and waiting until they left, feeling like an intruder even though it was _her_ child who was buried here and not this stranger's. But then, as though sensing her presence, Tom turned, and Sasha knew that she could not walk away.

 _Not this time._

Tom stood, taking a moment to brush the dirt and snow from his knees, giving Sasha time to examine his face, to notice his red face and puffy eyes, to realize that Tom had been crying.

 _The man who remained dry eyed throughout the ultrasound where they learned that their child was gone, throughout the birth of their son, throughout the funeral, was finally crying._

"Sasha."

His voice was quiet, but carried across the stones separating them. Sasha approached the couple slowly, eyeing the woman standing beside Tom warily, knowing that her presence could not be welcomed.

"Tom."

He gestured to the blond. "This is my wife, Darien."

Her usual ' _pleasure to meet you'_ felt so wrong that Sasha stuck with the basics. "Hello."

Contrary to Sasha's expectations, there was no anger or jealousy or even irritation in Darien's eyes as she turned towards Sasha – only sympathy. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Sasha fixed her gaze on a nearby tree, struggling to keep her composure, unable to respond to the unexpected show of kindness from a woman who – by all rights – should want to have nothing to do with her.

Darien stepped back. "I'll be in the car when you're ready, Tom."

"I'm glad that you are here, Sasha. I wondered if you ever came to visit," Tom said, his voice achingly familiar and yet different. This was no longer _her_ Tom. No longer the man who she fell in love with. No longer the man who she almost married. No longer the man who knew her better than she knew herself.

 _But he was still the father of her child, a bond that would never, ever disappear._

"Do you ever wonder…." her voice trailed off, her gaze fixed on the small headstone.

 _Thomas Eugene Chandler, Jr.  
Born December 15, 1998  
Died December 15, 1998_

"Wonder what?"

"Wonder what might have been?" She whispered, eyes lifting to him.

The silence stretched so long that Sasha wondered if he would answer at all. When he finally did, the words sounded torn from his throat. "Every day of my life."

Sasha nodded, ignoring the tears that had gathered in her eyes and were threatening to fall. "Darien seems nice."

"She is."

"I'm glad that you have someone," she responded and, as the words left her mouth, Sasha realized that they were true. She might still mourn the loss of her relationship with Tom Chandler, might even regret the way she ended things, but her certainty that she did the right thing remained steadfast. _Tom was happy now_. Married with a child on the way, just like he wanted. "Your first?"

"Second." Another pause. "We have a little girl. She's two."

 _A girl._

Sasha wondered what that would be like. She had wanted a girl back then – before – but now she could only picture a boy.

 _A little boy with her chestnut hair and Tom's flashing smile._

"Do you...?" he began.

"No." Sasha cut him off with a firm shake of her head. "I told you. Never again."

She didn't expect him to answer but he did, reaching out to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I know it's hard but … it's worth it, Sasha. When the time comes, remember that. It's worth it. I promise."


	11. Chapter 11

_Ch. 11 – St. Louis, March 2019_

 _x_

Sasha groaned as, once again, she heard a hacking cough coming from the bedroom down the hall. She squinted at the clock on the bedside table.

4:17.

Before she could force exhausted limbs out of bed for the fourth – maybe fifth? – time that night, Tom sat up. "I'll get him."

"You can't use the nebulizer for another hour, at least," Sasha called towards Tom's back as he reached the door to the room.

"I know. I'm going to take him outside, see if the cold air helps," Tom responded, the words muffled as he pulled a windbreaker over his head.

Sasha watched the clock tick from 4:17 to 4:18 to 4:19, all the way to 4:32, ears straining for the sound of the door opening again, fearing that they would need to make another middle of the night trip to see Doc Rios.

Delivering Kaito Slattery – following an emergency crash course in c-sections obtained via the Navy onboard medical database – had been a turning point in Timothy's life. Upon his return to St. Louis, he convinced one of the few surviving pediatricians (the virus did a number on medical professionals) to let him sign on as a trainee, fitting his studies around his duties with the Navy. A year ago, his deployment over, Rios made the decision not to re-enlist and instead opened his own family medicine practice, becoming a one-man urgent care facility overnight.

The sound of the front door opening caught Sasha's attention. She listened carefully, straining for the distinctive sound of Jake's labored breathing, but all she could hear were Tom's light footsteps headed down the hall. A moment later he appeared in the doorway, tossing the windbreaker on the chair before crawling into bed and pressing his cold nose against the back of her neck. Sasha batted him away.

"I knew that you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep," Tom said wryly.

Sasha didn't bother denying it. "How is Jake's breathing?"

"He fell back asleep within a minute of being out in the cold air. I cracked the window in his bedroom," Tom answered sleepily.

A minute later Tom was snoring, while Sasha remaining wide-eyed, her adrenaline pumping. Giving up the pretense of sleep, Sasha tossed the covers to the side and padded down the hall towards Jake's room. At the doorway she paused, gazing at the two-year old who was curled up beneath the covers, thumb in mouth, chestnut hair sticking in all directions - the spitting image of his father. She needed to see him, needed to be reassured that this was just a bad cold, or maybe a little bit of asthma. Nothing serious. Nothing life-threatening.

 _She wasn't going to lose Jake like she had Tommy._

Stretching out next to the boy on the twin bed, curling one arm beneath her head, Sasha rested a hand on her son's chest, the steady thud of his heart and regular rising and falling of his chest soothing her anxiety. Next thing she knew, Sasha was blinking at the cup of coffee sitting inches from her face. Hands reaching up automatically, she cradled the warm cup, breathing in the familiar scent.

"Where's Jake?"

"I put on Curious George," Tom responding, easing his frame onto the end of the bed.

"Ah, Kara's trick," Sasha murmured, pushing herself to a seated position. Jake's twin bed wasn't designed to fit two fully grown adults.

"What?" The puzzled look on Tom's face quickly morphed into wry amusement. "I'm going to assume that I really don't want to know."

"Probably not," Sasha murmured, although she did shift her hand to rest a little higher on Tom's thigh than she normally would. "I'm pretty sure that Kara's pregnant again. She made a rather abrupt departure when she dropped off Jake's medicine yesterday and saw that I was cooking fish."

Tom snorted. "Those two are worse than teenagers. Half the time I'm scared to open Kara's office door, just in case."

"They are obviously taking the repopulation efforts very seriously," Sasha replied smartly.

Though Sasha's words were in jest, Tom's face grew serious as he considered her. "Do you ever wish that…we had another?"

Sasha gazed down at her coffee, considering Tom's words. Even back when she was pregnant with Tommy, she had never really imagined more than one child. And it wasn't as if Jake was an only child. He had Ashley and Sam, and plenty of "cousins" (as well as more on the way). She raised her head to look at Tom.

"No, I don't."

Sasha swung her feet off the small mattress, tugging at Tom's hand. "It sounds like we have roughly fifteen minutes left of Curious George and, while I don't want another baby, I wouldn't mind spending a little bit of alone time with my husband."


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12 – Washington D.C., July 2014_

 _x_

Sasha ran her finger over the small, blurry, black-and-white picture with a paperclip crease across one corner. After fifteen years, the paper was worn thin and, to the untrained eye, looked like nothing more than a blob. But Sasha knew what it was.

 _The only picture she had of her son._

That she had a picture at all was more a matter of circumstances than plan. Upon receiving orders assigning her to Coronado California following the completion of her training in Providence, Sasha requested copies of her medical files and there, clipped to the front of the manila folder, was an ultrasound picture that Sasha didn't know existed until that very moment.

She ran a finger over the picture again, trying to recall the last time she pulled it out. Months ago, defnitely, maybe even a year, the days blurring together as more and more time passed. The picture certainly had not been on her mind when she woke up this morning. Not until she began perusing the materials for her morning briefing as she sipped her morning coffee, and ran smack into her past in the form of a summary of Doctor Rachel Scott's mission to the Arctic, a mission being conducted aboard the USS Nathan James, a Naval destroyer commanded by one Captain Thomas Chandler.

"You home?"

A warm smile crossed Sasha's face at the sound of Nicholas's voice. She had been introduced to Doctor Nicholas Cooper, trauma surgeon extraordinaire and all-around good guy, three years ago following a less-than-successful mission resulting in the med-evac of two members of her team. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, at least on Sasha's end. When Nicholas called her two weeks later, it took her a full minute to call up any memory of him at all. Yet now she could not image life without his calm, stable presence.

"In the bedroom," she called.

"I wasn't sure you would be home yet. I know how those meetings can drag," Nicholas commented, leaning down to give her a quick kiss before pulling off his tie.

"They'll have lots of time to brief me on our way to China. It's a sixteen hour flight," Sasha replied, not bothering to beat around the bush. Nicholas had every right to be annoyed. Not only had they been forced to cut their honeymoon short when Sasha was recalled to Washington for an "emergency", but now she was leaving the country for a mission that could easily take months.

Her husband surprised her, though.

"Does this have anything to do with the virus killing thousands in Qinghai that the government is insisting doesn't exist?" Nicholas asked, sitting on the bed across from Sasha's desk.

"You know I can't tell you. I probably shouldn't have told you that I was going to China at all."

"But you did. Which means that you need something from me," Nicholas replied steadily.

Ah, she had underestimated him – again. It was something she adored about him, Nicholas's ability to throw her a curve-ball just when she thought she had him all figured out. "Do you know anything about a paleomicrobiologist named Rachel Scott?"

Nicholas tilted his head, considering her question. "I've heard the name. She has a reputation for being brilliant but difficult. Apparently once she gets an idea in her head, she is like a dog with a bone. A pain in the ass politically, but not a bad person to have on your team – especially if you happen to be dealing with a deadly pathogen."

Sasha rolled that information over in her mind, refusing to scrutinize the relief that coursed through her upon learning that the expert Tom was escorting was, in fact, an expert and would not steer him wrong. Infuriate him, probably, maybe even mar that perfect Navy record, but not endanger him. She was quiet too long, however, and Nicholas's attention wandered to her desk – and the picture sitting there.

"Were you thinking about Tommy?"

The quiet question was not unexpected. Nicholas had never been one to shy from uncomfortable topics, too used to delivering bad news to patients and their loved ones. Sasha grimaced. "I guess it's a good thing we decided to wait until we were home to start trying. I don't think declining this mission would have done much for my career."

Nicholas reached over, grasping her hand and tugging until Sasha moved to sit on the bed next to him. He slid his arm around her back. "The decision is entirely up to you, Sasha. Kids or no kids, I already have everything that I want."

Sasha rested her head on her husband's shoulder, loving him more for the fact that he meant every word, bemused that it took finding a man who was okay never having children for her to realize that she did, and to gain the courage to try again. "I've hear it's worth it."

"That's what everyone says," Nicholas agreed. But Sasha didn't care what everyone thought – just what one man thought.

 _A man who, on a December evening long ago, promised her that it was worth it._

Because if there was one thing that Sasha knew, it was that Thomas Chandler did not break his promises.


	13. Chapter 13

_Ch. 13 – St. Louis, January 2017_

 _x_

"Your options are lasagna or chicken pot pie. Although I burned the chicken pot pie so you may not want to eat the crust," Kara confessed, setting Frankie in the playpen that had been erected in the Chandler's living room after the not quite two-year-old decided to scale the bookcase one day while Kara was unloading groceries. Sasha reached him just as the cabinet began to topple, realizing only after the fact how close they came to disaster.

 _Both of them_.

The danger to Frankie was obvious. He could have been seriously injured – either crushed by the bookcase or hurt during the fall – but after the immediate hysteria passed, the toddler was back to his usual self, tearing around the house at break-neck speed and continuing his mission to pre-maturely age his parents.

Unfortunately, Sasha did not bounce back as quickly. Her mad dash across the room followed by lifting twenty-five pounds of wiggling toddler and dodging a falling piece of furniture irritated her cervical cerclage and she spent the next two days flat on her back with intermittent bleeding. Thankfully the bleeding stopped and three weeks later, rather than being stuck in bed, Sasha was back to merely being stuck on the couch, relying on Tom and Ashley and Sam and Kara to help her with even the most basic of tasks, her one job at the moment _not_ going into labor.

"Lasagna sounds great," Sasha replied.

Sasha could hear the door to the microwave open and shut as Kara warmed up the food. "How was yesterday's ultrasound?" Kara called from the kitchen.

Sasha smiled. The only _good_ part about being on bed rest was that she got to see the baby frequently, reassuring herself that he – because they now knew they were having another boy – was still alive. As though he could read her thoughts, the baby chose that moment to give Sasha a kick right in the bladder. "Busy. We're creeping closer to the twenty-eight week mark."

Twenty-eight weeks. The point where the baby had a 90% chance of surviving.

 _Assuming she made it that far._

"I think I just saw him roll over," Kara said, instinctively rubbing her own stomach as she handed Sasha the plate of food. The discord of being waited on by a woman who was thirty-six weeks pregnant and had a history of early deliveries was not lost on Sasha.

"His new favorite thing to do is stick his feet under my ribs and push," Sasha replied.

Kara winced. "Frankie used to do that. It hurt like hell." She sat down in the chair next to the playpen and began feeding the toddler chunks of banana. "So far this guy is a lot quieter than Frankie. I'm hoping he stays that way."

Sasha laughed. "I'm not sure it's possible for him to be busier than Frankie. Have you figured out how you are going to manage a newborn and a hyperactive two-year-old?"

"I'm still working on it," Kara admitted. "Have you and Tom talked any more about names?"

"Tom's still pushing for Jed." The two women exchanged knowing glances.

"It's just so," Kara paused. "Old man. Like _Stan_. Who calls a baby Stan?"

"Or Lloyd."

"Or Donald."

At that, Sasha burst out laughing. " _Donald?_ Please tell me that was on Danny's list."

"No, thank goodness." Kara shuddered. "But he did suggest Clementine if it was a girl."

"That's not so bad," Sasha began, only to be cut off.

" _Because it made him think of oranges."_

"Okay, you win."

Sasha wondered, for a second, what Tom would have suggested for a girl's name. She thought she recalled him mentioning Rena, a play on Irene in honor of his mother, way back when (back when Sasha was still innocent enough to think that two lines on a pregnancy test actually meant that you got to take home a baby). This time Sasha had originally refused to talk about names. In fact, she hadn't even wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl but, once the information slipped out during an ultrasound, it was too easy to fall into the habit of calling the baby "he" and then – hypothetically – discussing names.

 _Making it all feel so real._

"Sasha! Look what I have!" Sam burst through the door, making a beeline for the couch to show off the small electronic device that he was holding, his excitement obvious. Sasha glanced over at Kara, who merely chuckled, visibly amused by Sasha's cluelessness.

"Um…."

Thankfully Sam didn't seem to actually need an answer. "Val fixed my Nintendo DS! Plus she found a whole bunch of new games for us to try. I thought that I could show you how to play some of them and then you would have something to do all day."

"It's really fun, Sasha," Ashley added, hanging up her coat and following her brother to the couch at a more sedate pace. "Once you get the hang of it we can have contests. See who gets to the next level first or who gets the most points. That sort of thing."

For one of the first times in her life, Sasha found herself speechless. Glancing down at the console, her eyes fell on the games Sam was holding.

 _Pokemon_

 _Dragon Quest_

 _Mario Kart_

 _Mario & Luigi_

 _Mario & Donkey Kong_

 _Mario & …._

Sasha stopped reading. Obviously the games had not been chosen with her interests in mind – but that wasn't the point. A smile creeping across her face, Sasha located Tom, noting the happy glint in his eye and the slight curve to his lips, realizing that he was behind this. He had found a way to keep her entertained _and_ bring them together.

 _As a family_.

Sasha turned her attention back to Sam and Ashley "When can we start?"


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N – thank you to all who have followed and favorited and reviewed. This story began as a one-shot but (as many of you know), I seem incapable of leaving well enough alone and this story was born. I appreciate everyone who has read and especially those who took the time to review. You are all amazing._

 _x_

 _Ch. 14 - St. Louis, May 29, 2017_

 _x_

"Do you ever wonder how things might have been different?"

The low timber of Tom's voice reverberated through the small space. Sasha turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of him standing in the doorway, but not enough to disturb the infant she held in her arms, the one she had just spent twenty minutes rocking to sleep, every soft wheezing breath a reassurance that he was there – alive. She arched an eyebrow at Tom in question.

He scowled, but Sasha could see the laughter lurking behind his stern mien. "Don't tell me that you forgot our anniversary."

 _May 27, 2015. The day that Captain Thomas Chandler walked into President Peng's mansion and back into her life._

She _had_ forgotten. And while she knew that Tom's indignation was an act, Sasha found herself disconcerted that not once today had she reflected on the past. On how unlikely it was that she would be sitting her, rocking her son – _her and Tom's son_ – to sleep while mentally reviewing her task list and wondering if Val knew how to cheat at Mario Kart (the only way Sasha had a prayer of catching up with Sam's score). On how much of her current happiness was the result of the merest chance and a great deal of luck.

Instead, her day was filed from top to bottom with the present. Jake's two a.m. feeding, the usual morning scramble to get Ashley and Sam out the door to school, a quick scan of her work emails, lunch with Kara and Frankie and Mark (the only place outside of her own home she was willing to venture with a ten-day-old), a rushed conference call before Sam and Ashley got home from school, an afternoon balancing a fussy baby and Sam's homework and Ashley's anxiety over whether the boy she was desperately in love with would ask her to the end-of-school dance, Tom's arrival home with dinner (thankfully) – all interspersed with feedings and naps and diaper changes – and then it was time to nurse Jake to sleep while Tom spent some time with the older kids. Twelve hours had disappeared in a blink.

"I've been a little busy," she noted matter-of-factly.

Tom chuckled. "They're exhausting, aren't they? Good thing they're cute."

"What do you have there?" she asked, nodding towards the small box that Tom was absently moving from one hand to the other.

"This?" Tom held it high, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. "This is for you. If you know the magic word."

That couldn't go unchallenged. "Is the magic word _I-got-up-with-your-son-every-two-hours-last-night-while-you-snored_?"

He paused, as though he were actually considering pressing the issue, before handing over the box without further comment. Sliding it open, Sasha found a delicate silver chain with several charms. Lifting the necklace, she realized that the charms were in fact letters – JAKE.

It was gorgeous – and suspiciously similar to one that Kara often sported under her suits.

"Danny?" She asked, her voice teasing.

"Tex. Where do you think Danny gets all of his good ideas?"

That got a chuckle. "Thank you Tom. It's beautiful." She held the chain up with one hand. "Help me put it on?"

Tom moved behind the rocking chair, butterflies forming in Sasha's stomach as he gathered her hair to the side, his fingers sweeping across the nape of her neck, despite not being in a position to do anything about it for at least another month. Tom leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to her back as he latched the chain. "How are you doing?"

 _How was she doing?_

It was a good question, really, one that Sasha didn't know how to answer, her emotions too erratic to be pinned down, swinging from ecstasy to terror to exhaustion to overwhelming joy over the course of the day.

"I don't know." The words slipped out, and Sasha transferred her gaze back to the child she was holding. The one she fought so hard to bring into this world, months of bedrest and ultrasounds and worry still fresh in her mind.

Tom moved until he stood to the side of the rocking chair, a hand settling on Jake's dark curls. "Has it sunk in yet? That he's here?"

"I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up on morning and he'll be gone," Sasha replied softly. The past ten days had been the best ten days of her life – days that she would not have given up for anything, even if she knew that it would all disappear tomorrow – yet the thought of all of it disappearing was enough to turn her blood cold.

"Well, just don't sleep." It was not the comfort that Sasha was looking for and she narrowed her eyes at her husband. "It's real, Sasha, I promise you. Jake's here and he's real and he's not going anywhere."

Sasha's gaze dropped to Jake – his tiny lips, his clenched hands, the little lines that crossed his forehead and made him look like a grumpy old man. He was a beautiful baby, born with a full head of chestnut hair like his mother and his father's piercing blue eyes, but more importantly, he was born at thirty-nine weeks, full-term and healthy, earning a perfect ten out of ten on the APGAR scale. She ran a finger over Jake's soft cheek, feeling a soft puff of hot air when he exhaled, hearing a slight grunt as he shifted, snuggling closer to his mother.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

A thousand possible answers ran through Sasha's mind, a thousand small things that had led to this moment. But there was only one that felt right.

"Thank you for making me believe that this was worth it."

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THE END


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